


Primary Mission Assist: Stiles Stilinski

by oshjoshmgosh



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Family, Gen, Meet the Family, POV Bucky Barnes, Protective Scott McCall, Smart Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 16:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7180334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oshjoshmgosh/pseuds/oshjoshmgosh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of the Triskelion, the Winter Soldier sets out to discover more about himself. His journey takes him to Beacon Hills, where he finds the last of his blood relatives in the form of Stiles Stilinski. </p><p>Prologue to a bigger story I am working on. Takes place after Season 5B of Teen Wolf, but can be easily understood without any knowledge of the tv show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primary Mission Assist: Stiles Stilinski

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Teen Wolf Season 5B, but everything that has happened in Teen Wolf occurred exactly two years after it did in canon. Simply so it matches with the MCU timeline. Irrelevant, unless you're hardcore into continuity. Like me.  
> Occurs a short time after Winter Soldier, before any other MCU movie containing Captain America.  
> Only knowledge of the MCU is necessary. Having seen Teen Wolf will assist in character imagination, and comprehension of werewolves, but this was vetted through someone who has never seen Teen Wolf, and they felt it was entirely comprehensible and enjoyable.

Mission Report: October 12th, 2014. Beacon Hills, California, United States of America.

Target: Mscislaw Stilinski. Common name: Stiles. Age 17. Son of Jonathan Stilinski and the late Claudia Stilinski, nee Szymanski. Relationship to The Asset: great-great nephew. Significance: last remaining blood relative. Mission note: Jonathan Stilinski to be avoided, if at all possible; government agent.

Mission Imperative: observation. Determine if mission assistance is viable.

Note: The target spends an inordinate amount of time playing video games with another. Identify: Scott McCall, age 17, son of Rafael McCall and Melissa McCall, nee Peters. Divorced. Mission note: Rafael McCall to be avoided; government agent.

A copse of trees provided adequate cover for The Asset to observe his target from a safe distance, with limited chance of being spotted by neighbors. Assessment: 6% chance of coincidental sighting. The blue jeep in the driveway indicated that the target’s father, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, was currently absent. He held a directional microphone toward the target’s room and settled into the tree, listening to the likely boring and irrelevant chatter.

“I’m tellin’ ya, Scott, this next semester is gonna be a breeze! We aren’t gonna have to do anything, except pray that we don’t almost die again.”

Perhaps not irrelevant chatter. Odds of stumbling onto an important conversation almost immediately: near zero. The Asset ran a quick auditory scan of his surroundings for any unwelcome presences, then focused intensely on the conversation.

“I mean, hopefully.” Scott. That voice belonged to the target’s friend. “With the Dread Doctor’s gone, Theo dead, and Mason back to normal…Is it too much to hope for a calm semester, where all I have to worry about is getting good grades?”

Mission Briefing, recall: Dread Doctors.

Silence. No memories or information came to his mind. He took the burner phone he had purchased with stolen HYDRA funds and looked up the term while he listened to the boys’ conversation.

“Dude. We don’t even need to worry about good grades! We’ve already been accepted to UCSB! What are they gonna do, revoke our spots after we’ve already done everything?”

“They could!” Scott sounded whiny. Assessment: Scott is not the leader of their duo. No pressure to convince him, should contact become desired. His search pulled up a book titled “The Dread Doctors.” It had been written by a man named T.R. McCammon. Searches revealed it to be a pseudonym. Deeper research would be required at a less critical moment.

“They won’t. Dammit!” The curse drew his attention back to the window, through which he could see that the boys’ eyes remained fixed on the television screen.

“That’s what you get! The universe is telling you not to be overconfident!”

“Shut up. Just revive me before I die!” Threat level: minimal. Likely cause of distress: in-game fatality. No bearing on real life. The Asset relaxed his arm, which had begun to whirr and click in agitation at the curse, and resumed his light searching while listening.

The boys spent until the sun descended below the skyline playing their game, alternating between talking about inanities The Asset did not comprehend and silently focusing on winning. The Asset had a list of topics to spend time researching: Dread Doctors. Werewolves. Derek Hale. Full moon. Lydia Martin, Kira Yukimura, Liam Dunbar and Mason Hewitt. Those were likely friends of the target.

One hour and fifty-three minutes after Scott McCall’s departure, Stiles settled into bed. A faint light shining through the window betrayed his phone activities. Packing the microphone and his binoculars into the duffel back containing his things, The Asset prepared himself to return to his temporary lodgings at a motel on the edge of the town.

A faint rustling from the forest behind him alerted The Asset to a presence larger than any of the indigenous animals. Turning and activating his night vision lenses, The Asset scanned the trees.

There.

A man of impressive build, approximately six feet in height, dark hair, prowling through the forest in his direction. Threat level: minimal. Threat of detection: 72%. Mission Imperative: avoid if possible. Lifting a small stone that he had grabbed and dropped into one of his many pockets, The Asset threw it with his flesh arm at a seventy-three-degree angle to his left. It clattered to the ground and the man turned his head in that direction

As soon as the stone had been thrown The Asset was silently creeping in his tree in the opposite direction. He fell to the ground with the lightest of thumps after throwing another stone, which landed five feet further than the first.

The man turned to where the Asset stood and strode forward confidently. Threat of detection: increased to 98%. Mission Imperative: run. The Asset waited a single second for the man to turn away before breaking into a sprint along the tree line. The man broke into a sprint right after him.

Analyzing: quick footsteps growing louder means distance is closing. Civilians do not possess speed sufficient to close distance with The Asset. Reassess identity. Mission Imperative: engage.

A knife slipped into his hand from a hidden pocket, and he hurled it toward the man’s right lung. With impossible alacrity the man dodged the knife, spinning and resuming his impressive speed towards The Asset.

“The hell?” The man grunted as he resumed his sprint. The Asset, using his left arm, grabbed onto a tree and swung around it, changing his course to intercept that of the man. His judgment accurate, he drove his foot toward the man’s cheek. Another surprising block resulted in just the man’s arm making contact, throwing him off course and into a tree. A knife followed his trajectory and buried itself in the man’s left shoulder.

The man roared like a beast, his eyes flaring blue.

Reassessment: inhuman. Mission Imperative: identify.

Silence. Without missing a beat, The Asset threw himself forward and delivered a crushing kick at the man’s stomach. His undamaged right arm blocked the kick with strength that further confirmed his enhanced nature.

Threat level: increased to moderate. Mission imperative: Incapacitate, do not kill. Questioning necessary. Force authorized: semi-lethal. Assume healing factor comparable to self.

Three more knives were hurled at his prone opponent, only one of them missing its target due to the man’s speed. He rolled along the ground to avoid The Asset, blocking when he could but faltering more and more often. After only two more swift strikes, the man’s guard fell sufficiently to deliver a blow to the head with his left arm, rendering the opponent unconscious.

Two seconds of assessment: target neutralized. Mission imperative: bind and question. Enhanced strength requires HYDRA manacles. From within his duffel bag The Asset removed a set of manacles that had held him, and others like him, in the past. They would likely be sufficient for this man. He removed his knives, then shackled and carried the man a bit further into the forest so as to remain hidden from the street, then sat him up against a tree and waited.

After less than a minute the knife wounds had ceased bleeding. Before a second minute had passed they were closed and nearly invisible. Note: incredible healing factor, far above The Asset’s own. The knives were wiped clean with a rag designated to the purpose and repositioned around his person. Four minutes and twelve seconds passed before the man stirred.

At once his eyes shot open and he tried throwing himself to his feet, merely succeeding in toppling himself to the side and groaning. The Asset reached forward and lifted him right as the man vomited, the contents of his stomach emptying onto the ground next to him. To avoid any disgusting, unnecessary contact, The Asset pulled him around to the other side of the tree.

“Unidentified subject: identify.” His voice sounded strange in his own ears; he had not used it since that fight with Captain America. His previous target. The only mission he had ever failed. The man before him growled and pulled The Asset’s attention back to the present.

“Repeat: identify yourself.”

“Who…Who the hell are you?” The Asset felt no need to respond to the man’s question just yet. He sat on the man’s shins and extended his left arm to the man’s chest to prevent a head butt. Then he produced a knife and set it against the man’s previously wounded shoulder.

“Torture is unnecessary. Your safety can be maintained, provided you cooperate. Repeat: identify yourself.” He pressed the sharp edge of the knife into the man’s shoulder just hard enough to break skin, pulling a hiss from him. The man growled and bared a set of impressive, and inhuman, teeth.

“Derek Hale. I…I live here.” The Asset’s eyes widened marginally. Derek Hale: a name on his list from Stiles’ conversation. He pulled the knife back so it was just resting against Derek’s shoulder.

“Identify species. You are not human. What are you?” The man growled again and remained silent. “Observations: Glowing blue eyes, sharp, canine teeth. Great strength, speed and agility. Impossible healing rate.” The cut he had made was gone now. “The target mentioned ‘werewolves.’ Are you a werewolf?”  The man growled shortly before nodding cautiously. The Asset removed the knife from the man’s skin and let it rest at his side.

“Thank you. Continued cooperation will ensure your safety; This is a surveillance-only mission. Identify your relationship with Stiles Stilinski.”

“Stiles? What the hell do you want with him?”

“Classified. Repeat: what is your relationship with Stiles?” Derek bared his teeth again and began talking once The Asset lifted the knife back toward his shoulder.

“We’re…friends, of a sort. I was his Alpha, but then things got complicated and I left. I haven’t seen him in almost a year. He doesn’t know I’m here.” The Asset nodded and relaxed his right arm once again.

“Does Stiles Stilinski know about werewolves?” The question was an obvious one, but it needed to be asked.

“Of course he does. Can you please tell me what this is about?” He could feel Derek testing the strength of his bonds, but he was confident they would hold.

“No. Mission does not require your compliance, nor your life. Mission imperative does not require violence, but does not forbid it. Stiles Stilinski is under observation only, provided he has no relations to HYDRA.

“How did you locate me?” The question was an important one. The Asset was sure it was not due to his own sloppiness. Derek bared his teeth once again, but answered grudgingly.

“Enhanced smell and hearing. I could hear your heartbeat and the gears grinding in your arm as you moved. I followed your scent when I caught it because you smell…Strange.” The Asset nodded in acceptance and filed the information into his current knowledge of werewolves.

“How do you kill a werewolf?” He asked calmly. Derek snarled and tried to lurch forward, but The Asset allowed it only for an inch before he slammed the man back into the tree, resulting in a painful crack against the man’s head. He groaned and hung his head in pain for several seconds.

“Compliance will guarantee your safety. Refusal will result in knowledge by experimentation.” The man’s eyes flared blue and he growled weakly, but then nodded. Nodding elicited a wince.

“Wolfsbane is a major weakness. It is a poison. Gas, liquid, solid; any entrance into our bodies will probably kill us. Sufficient damage to the body can also be fatal. A large caliber bullet to the head or heart, dismemberment, etc. Anything that will kill a human will kill a werewolf, given enough time. Except disease. Werewolves can’t get sick.” The Asset nodded.

“Interrogation complete. Release: assured. Do not engage, or I will kill you. Understood?” He waited for Derek to nod before rising. He grabbed Derek’s shirt with his left arm and hefted the man to his feet, turning him and pressing him against the tree. “Do not engage in the future. Do not endanger the mission. If you interfere, I will kill you. You live only because you are dear to Stiles Stilinski.” As he spoke he unlocked and removed the manacles. He stepped back and kept his eyes on the man.

“Go.” Derek rubbed his wrists and glared for two seconds before turning and running deeper into the forest.

The Asset returned the cuffs to his bag before shouldering it and returning on his way to his temporary lodgings. Upon arrival at the Motel 8, he removed his clothing and secured the perimeter, locking the door and balancing the second bed against the window to create a barrier and privacy.

Set sleep: 4 hours.

***

Wake.

Mission Report: October 19th, 2014. 0415. Motel 8, Beacon Hills, California. United States of America.

The Asset ran the perimeter of the hotel three times, identifying any and all signs of human life. There had been three. Two cars passed on the road and one light was on in the motel itself. There was always a desk attendant present.

A six-minute shower was followed by The Asset staring at himself in the mirror, steam requiring him to wipe the fog away every sixteen seconds to keep the view of his face.

Mission imperative: Contact Stiles Stilinski.

Sub-imperative: Introduction.

“I am James Buchanan Barnes. You may call me Bucky.” His voice faltered on the nickname. Sub-imperative: failure.

Sub-imperative: Introduction.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes. You…you may call me B-“ He sighed to himself. Sub-imperative: failure. Rewrite sub-imperative.

Sub-imperative: decide on nickname.

The man on the bridge had called him Bucky. Captain America called him Bucky. His previous target had known him for years and called him Bucky. The name evoked memories that were painful and caused decreased functioning. The name was inappropriate for this situation.

Barnes was a last name. Comrades in arms and sports called each other by their last name. He was not Stiles Stilinski’s compatriot. He was Stiles Stilinski’s great-great uncle.

James was a first name, and entirely appropriate for those meeting for the first time. The Mission Briefing supplied that very few people had ever called him James. There were no feelings associated with the name. It would serve as a backup.

Jimmy was a diminutive form of James that implied familiarity and fondness. He was older than Stiles Stilinski by many years, even disregarding his time in cryostasis. Familiarity could only come after time.

Jim…Jim was the shortened form of James, without being diminutive or implying familiarity.

Sub-imperative: Introduction.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes. You may call me Jim.” There was no stutter. “I am your great-great uncle, and we should probably talk.” No. Should implies necessity, which can cause reticence.

Sub-imperative: personal desire.

“I am your great-great uncle, and I would really like to talk. If you find it agreeable.” Good enough.

Mission sub-imperatives: complete.

Sheriff Stilinski would depart from his home at 0750 with five minutes of error. It seemed abnormal to The Asset- No. It seemed abnormal to James Buchanan Barnes that a father would work on Sunday. Law enforcement seemed to rarely follow typical civilian schedules of Monday-Friday. It would work in his favor.

The bugs he had placed on Stiles Stilinski’s phone indicated that Scott McCall would arrive at 1200 (with 30 minutes of error assumed). He assumed a 98% chance that Stiles Stilinski would inform Scott McCall of any encounter with…James. The presence of his best friend would hopefully increase the chances of a positive encounter due to the illusion of safety in numbers, so it was better for contact to occur with Scott McCall present.

Stiles Stilinski would likely tell his father as well. Complication: Sheriff Stilinski would almost assuredly have a federal warning to quietly report The Asset’s presence, should he be seen. James Buchanan Barnes was presumed dead, due to his disappearance sixty-nine years previous. It would not be difficult for a civilian of sufficient skill with a computer to connect James Buchanan Barnes with The Asset. There was no sufficient cover story.

Mission imperative: Appeal to kindness.

Yes. Stiles Stilinski cared for his father. More openly than any other teenager he had spent time observing. Perhaps he could extend kindness to The Asset. To his great-great uncle.

For it was truly assistance that The Asset desired. He could not trust Captain America. Although he could appeal to the Best Friend relationship, he would be incarcerated. He had other missions to fulfill, and The Avengers would prevent him from fulfilling them. The mission briefing assured him that family could be counted on for assistance. Stiles Stilinski had no known ties to HYDRA or SHIELD. He could not turn The Asset in, nor could he stop The Asset from fulfilling his missions.

He needed Stiles Stilinski’s assistance. He would give Stiles Stilinski the truth. No cover would be sufficient.

At 1100 he rode his motorcycle to the first house in Stiles Stilinski’s neighborhood. Parking it in a legal zone, The Asset…No. James dismounted and walked up the street. Dressed in casual civilian clothes purchased with stolen HYDRA funds, he posed an unimportant figure. A brown leather jacket with leather riding gloves suited his method of transportation and hid his left arm. Denim pants and a red t-shirt with a yellow lightning bolt surrounded by a circle printed on the chest gave him the appearance of a man worshipping a fictional hero via casual clothing. His boots were inconspicuous beneath the cuffs of the pants. His hair was held away from his face by a hair band and a baseball cap hid his eyes without appearing suspicious.

He strode into the forest and made his way to his copse in front of Stiles Stilinski’s house. The blue jeep was present; the police cruiser was not. Mission conditions: acceptable. Auditory analysis confirmed that Stiles Stilinski was in the house.

At 1215 Scott McCall rode his own motorcycle to the house, parked in front of it and then walked in the front door without even knocking. Assessment: sloppy. Even civilian criminals could enter the house with no difficulty. If Stiles Stilinski was to be his mission assist, this needed to be corrected.

He leapt from his tree and walked back to his motorcycle. The Asset...No, James. James rode the bike back to Stiles Stilinski’s house, ensuring that the two boys knew of his presence by the loud rumbling sound of the bike. He removed the key from the ignition after he noticed Stiles Stilinski peer through the front blinds.

He then approached the door and rang the bell to the left side.

After seven seconds the door opened to reveal Stiles Stilinski. Scott McCall stood to his left, leaning on the open door with his left side hidden. Probability of weapon carriage: high. Threat level: minimal. Approval rating: high.

“Can I help you?”

“Stiles Stilinski?” The boy nodded, a querulous yet open expression on his face. Scott McCall may be providing support, but Stiles Stilinski was expressing trust and kindness. They made for a disarming team. He took a breath a nodded.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes. You can call me Jim, if you wish. I am your great-great uncle, and I would really like to talk. If you find it agreeable.” The Asset – No. James lifted his eyes to re-observe the boys and found Stiles Stilinski’s face dangerously closed off.

“Scott, get in front of me. Give me the bat.” Scott McCall seemed confused, but put his guard up and did as told. James stood still and refused to respond to the extremely defensive behavior. He knew that Scott McCall was a werewolf, and approved of Stiles Stilinski’s willingness to use his less-breakable friend as a shield. That Stiles Stilinski also now possessed a weapon – ineffective as a baseball bat would be – was grounds for approval.

“James Buchanan Barnes died in 1945. And you are too young to be my great-great anything. Who are you, and why are you here? My father is the Sheriff.” He was surprised at Stiles Stilinski’s immediate knowledge, but James nodded and left his arms dangling at his side to clearly show that he wielded no weapons. He could have knives in both hands in 0.6 seconds if necessary; the boys did not need to know that.

“You are mostly correct. James Buchanan Barnes fell from a mountain and was lost in 1945. He was wounded, but was mostly restored and then preserved via cryostasis until the present day.” It was not the truth, but it was enough that it would hopefully open Stiles Stilinski to hearing the full truth.

“Prove it.” Stiles Stilinski’s demand for proof had been unforeseen. Assessment: failure to plan accordingly. Mission imperative: recite genealogy.

“Your mother was born Claudia Szymanski. Her mother was born Kimberly Proctor. Her mother was born Rebecca Barnes. She was my sister.”

“You researched my family tree. That’s creepy, not proof.” Stiles Stilinski’s voice shook slightly. Distressing the target was an acknowledged, probable result of revealing this information. Distress was not mission failure.

“Stiles…I…I don’t think he’s lying.” Scott muttered, tilting his head toward his friend but not taking his eyes off James.

“So do you think we should let him in?” Stiles Stilinski’s voice was pitched low enough that it would have been difficult for an ordinary human to hear all the words. Scott McCall shook his head slightly.

“Why are you here?” Stiles Stilinski demanded.

“I require assistance. Blood relatives are reported to care for one another and provide reasonable assistance. You are my last blood relative. I have…no friends or people to trust.” The words were difficult to string together in a way that felt normal. The Asset was not used to speaking so many words at a time. He could not remember the last time it had happened.

Stiles Stilinski glared at him in silence. The Asset waited for five seconds before making another appeal.

“I will ensure that Scott McCall – werewolf, best friend, and bodyguard – remains between us and can see my hands at all times.” The revelation that he knew about Scott McCall appeared to shock both boys. Scott McCall looked around quickly as though he thought people could overhear.

“You can’t…” Stiles Stilinski now appeared distressed. “Fine! Get in! Get in, hurry!” He stepped back and threw the door open, dragging Scott McCall with him to allow The Asset – No. To allow James into the house. “Sit at the kitchen table, hands on top.” James did as instructed and waited for Stiles Stilinski to lock the front door and take the third chair to the left of James, with Scott McCall in the next chair to the right. He approved. Their positions gave Stiles Stilinski room to run away while making it difficult for James to throw anything at him with his feet from under the table.

“How do you know Scott’s a werewolf?” Confusion. That was the most important question? Accept.

Sub-imperative: satisfy Stiles Stilinski’s curiosity.

“Observation. I have followed and observed both of you and your immediate friends for one week in order to ascertain mental states, defensive and offensive capabilities, and trustworthiness. I was unwilling to abandon my current mission to observe Kira Yukimura in Mexico; she remains an unknown.” Scott McCall tensed up at the mention of the girl. Possibility: They are in a relationship. Acknowledge. Ignore.

“Okay. That’s really creepy. And why are you talking like that?” Scott McCall nodded. Confusion.

Mission Briefing: The Asset speaks like a computer for ease of communication with Mission Leaders and handlers. He nodded to himself.

“It is how I was programmed. It will make sense if you consent to hear my story. I have determined that no cover story could succeed in winning your assistance, and have determined the truth to be the most likely method of success. May I proceed?”

Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes before turning back to him. Stiles nodded. “Go on.” James nodded in response. He opened his mouth to begin when Stiles Stilinski interrupted him. “Wait! Do you want some water, or something?”

James froze in confusion. Why would he be offered water? Assess: Is the body thirsty? Assessment: no. He does not require water. “No. I am acceptably hydrated.” Stiles nodded and made a motion that he interpreted as ‘continue.’ He opened his mouth to begin when Stiles Stilinski interrupted him again.

“Wait…” Stiles Stilinski’s eyebrows were furrowed with what James determined to be concern. He stared at The Asset for several seconds, before his eyes widened marginally and his body shuddered. “James…” The Asset nodded in acknowledgement. “Scott, claws out.” Scott McCall looked at his friend in concern. Receiving no further explanation, he nodded and James watched as very large, very sharp claws sprouted from the ends of each finger.

Threat level: high. Claws likely capable of inflicting severe damage to flesh. Avoid.

Mission Imperative: remain still. Express no hostility.

Sub-imperative: Non-lethal defense only. No weapons.

“James…” Stiles Stilinski began again. Fear clouded his eyes, and James suddenly felt wary about what his target was about to ask. “Please show me your left shoulder.”

A feeling unknown to The Asset flooded through his body. His heart increased its rate and adrenaline flooded his veins. False: he knew this feeling. Fear. He knew this from when the agent known as Black Widow had disabled his arm in the middle of their fight. It was the fear of mission failure.

Mission Imperative: remain calm. Lower heart rate.

How could Stiles Stilinski know? Assessment: The Asset had underestimated the target’s intelligence. He had wrongfully assumed that only an adult with law enforcement connections could correctly link James Buchanan Barnes with The Asset.

Mission Imperative: remain calm. Acquiesce. Non-lethal defense in the event of assault by Scott McCall only.

A low growl from Scott McCall indicated that his time to acquiesce was growing short.

Primary Mission Imperative: Attain Stiles Stilinski as primary mission assist.

The Asset closed his eyes and slowly grabbed the edges of his jacket to take it off. Moving slowly, so as not to antagonize the defensive werewolf Scott McCall, he pulled the jacket off and turned to show Stiles Stilinski the red star on his left shoulder. Scott McCall had begun to growl in earnest once the metal arm was revealed

“Who are you?” Scott McCall’s voice was slurred, and The Asset was only slightly surprised to see that sharp canine teeth had replaced his own. His features had flattened out and he now had a surplus of hair on his face. His eyes were glowing red.

“He’s The Winter Soldier.”

Mission imperative: remain motionless.

Accept.

“The what?” James Buchanan Barnes observed the two friends from absolute stillness.

“You probably don’t know anything about what happened on the east coast earlier this year.” Scott McCall shook his head without taking his eyes off of James. Stiles Stilinski continued speaking.

“I told you about HYDRA.” Scott McCall nodded. “Earlier this year, a HYDRA ghost known as the Winter Soldier assassinated Nick Fury, the director of SHIELD. He was also present during the Battle of the Triskelion; the giant flying warship that crashed into D.C. he was caught on camera fighting with Captain America between those two instances.”

The Asset’s hands remained motionless on the table. He was fearfully impressed with Stiles Stilinski’s investigative prowess.

“Being related to an American hero is a big deal. I read about Bucky Barnes every day for a month when I found out I was related to him. I did all the genealogical research, memorized the face of every ancestor between us.” Stiles Stilinski turned and was now speaking to The Asset. To James.

“I knew, as soon as you said your name, who you were. Every photo I have ever seen of you flashed before my eyes when you said your name. So did the images I have seen of The Winter Soldier. There are no clear images of your face. But someone leaked a report that the KGB Ghost had been around for decades. My brain made leaps.” The Asset nodded slowly.

“It is not my mission to harm you, Stiles Stilinski. It…” he struggled to put his thoughts into words. “It is because I am The Winter Soldier…That I need your help.”

“Why do you need my help? Why not go to the police? Or hell, the Avengers?” Stiles Stilinski’s voice was an exclamation at the end of his question.

“They would hinder my other existing missions. You cannot hinder me, but you could be my primary mission assist. You could prevent HYDRA from retaking me.” Stiles Stilinski’s jaw dropped in an expression that The Asset interpreted as shock. Scott McCall maintained a confused expression. Ignore. Scott McCall is not mission objective.

“How?”

“Do you know how I was created?” Stiles Stilinski slowly shook his head. The Asset felt there was conjecture running through Stiles Stilinski’s mind, but he remained silent. The…James. James continued.

“I was programmed. Intense neural programming. Goal: erase my memory and free will. Maintain a level of pain and focus to carry out any command given by my handlers. Train me to be an undetectable assassin. The Ghost of HYDRA.” When neither boy spoke, James continued.

“After each mission, my memory is wiped by a series of code words I have never been allowed to remember. I am then frozen until my next mission. Goal: remove conscious thought, leave instinct, judgment and functionality unimpaired. At the beginning of each mission, I am briefed and given a primary mission imperative. The imperative indicates the purpose of the mission, and the point to which I return upon its completion.”

An unknown tickle pricked The Asset’s throat. A gurgling sound assisted in its removal. Assessment: dry throat. Sub-imperative: attain water to continue speaking. He had never spoken for this long in the past.

“I require water.” Stiles Stilinski nodded without batting an eye and stood to retrieve the fluid. Thirty-two seconds later he returned with a plastic cup filled with clear liquid. Sniffing and tasting revealed that the liquid was water. The Asset drank slowly, saving half for future needs.

“There has been no recalibration in six months and fifteen days. Memories have been returning. My missions have consisted of invading known HYDRA bases and stealing information to learn about The Winter Soldier. About myself. I have discovered a Mission Override code. That is how you can help me.”

“You want to give me the Mission Override code?” The Asset nodded. “What will that do?”

 “The Mission Override code, when given, allows reassignment. Example: I am recalibrated. I contact you. You give Mission Override code. My mission ends. I can abandon my mission without returning for recalibration.” Stiles Stilinski’s eyebrows crinkled in thought once again.

“Why would you want me to have your Mission Override code?”

“I do not wish to return to HYDRA. I…James Buchanan Barnes was a good soldier. A good person.” James paused and took another single swallow of water. The cup had only an inch of water left. One more swallow. “The Winter Soldier should be no more.”

Scott McCall’s claws had retreated back into his fingers by the end of the story. His eyes were droopy at the outside corners, indicating sympathy and sorrow. Stiles Stilinski’s face was cold and analytical. James could see the thoughts running through his mind, putting piece after piece together.

“And you trust me because I am the last of your family?” The tone of voice indicated it was not a true question. James nodded regardless. “And because you know I can’t stop you from your missions like SHIELD would.” Another nod. “What if I were to just reassign you right now?”

“I have no mission right now. Mission Override would do little.” Stiles Stilinski nodded once again.

“You probably don’t want me telling my dad about you, do you?” Another not-question.

“I will not stop you. Sheriff Stilinski is likely required to report all information about The Winter Soldier’s location. Doing so, however, may draw unwanted attention to Beacon Hills.” The two friends scoffed at that. Confusion. Why is there…disdain? Yes. Disdain. Why is there disdain for his warning? Scott McCall answered his unasked question.

“Beacon Hills already gets plenty of unwanted attention. Drawing SHIELD’s, or hell, even HYDRA’s, would probably actually make this town safer.”

“Yeah, until HYDRA decided to use werewolves as soldiers.” Stiles Stilinski rolled his eyes. James nodded. Stiles Stilinski was a good mission assist to have. He had a high level of intelligence.

“Yeah, fine. Give me the codes, I’ll keep your secret, blah, blah, blah.” James curled the edges of his mouth upward slightly to express pleasure. Scott McCall opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it. Ignore.

“Pen and Paper are required.” Stiles Stilinski nodded and left for twenty-seven seconds to retrieve a black pen and a shred of paper likely torn from a notebook. “Keep this hidden. SHIELD and HYDRA both would kill for this information. It was difficult to retrieve.” James wrote down the five-word code that he had memorized and slid the paper toward Scott McCall, who handed it to Stiles Stilinski after only a cursory glance. Stiles Stilinski nodded.

“Mission complete. Without further requirement, I will leave.” James slowly stood and slid his leather jacket back over his shoulders, concealing his arm once again. “Thank you, Stiles Stilinski. And you, Scott McCall. I will call if I need reassignment.” He walked slowly to the front door and opened it when neither boy made another request of him. The door closed behind him.

Mission report: October 19th, 2014. Time: 1310. Stiles Stilinski’s house, Beacon Hills, California. United States of America.

Mission Imperative: Contact Stiles Stilinski.

Complete.

Mission Imperative: Observe Stiles Stilinski for trustworthiness.

Accept.

***

Mission Report: November 2nd, 2014. Beacon Hills, California. United States of America. Time: 1743.

Stiles Stilinski was demonstrating exemplary trustworthiness and capability. He had refrained from telling Sheriff Stilinski about James’ presence. Nor had he attempted to contact any other authorities, or SHIELD, or HYDRA. Possibility of missed coded messages via friends: Less than 5%.

Scott McCall had shown sufficient restraint as well. He had expressed concern to his mother about a possible threat, but had not given any pertinent information. Melissa McCall was as ignorant about The Winter Soldier as Scott McCall had been prior to contact with Stiles Stilinski.

Mission Imperative: Observe Stiles Stilinski for trustworthiness.

Complete.

Mission Imperative: Contact Stiles Stilinski. Divulge true purpose.

Accept.

As he sat in the copse of trees across from Stiles Stilinski’s house, a small tendril of discomfort unfolded in his stomach. Identify: nervousness. Excitement. The feelings were strange to James, but not completely foreign.

Mission briefing: accept download?

Downloads were frequently patches of information or quick visions of Bucky Barnes’ life. They were sometimes painful and often evoked emotion that The Asset was unused to. They were inconvenient in the middle of missions, but in calm moments such as this one, he would regularly accept. It was helpful to learn about himself.

Accept.

_“Hey! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” he shouted at the three boys who were currently tossing a much smaller figure between them. One of them received the small boy and then threw him off to the side in order to face Bucky in full._

_“Yeah? And that’s you? There’s three of us, bub!” Bucky slipped his jacket from his shoulders and raised his fists. He had not been in very many fights, so he was nervous. But this kid needed help, and if Bucky didn’t do anything then these punks were just gonna keep picking on him!_

_“Bring it.”_

_The fight was short. Bucky received several blows and dealt several more. One boy snuck in a cheap shot to his kidney, but was shortly after tackled by the smaller boy. He had latched onto the assailant’s neck and dragged him to the ground squeezing and kicking for all he was worth. Bucky, now one opponent down, easily fended off the other two and then unwound the small boy from the bully who was currently gasping for air._

_“Yeah, how do you like…struggling to breathe?” The kid gasped as Bucky pulled him away. The bully quickly coughed and sucked in air, pulling himself to his feet and running away after his friends. Upon closer examination, the boy was around Bucky’s age; he was just really scrawny!_

_“You okay, bud?” The boy brushed himself off and turned to face Bucky._

_“Yeah, I’m fine. I coulda taken em. I had em on the ropes!” Bucky chuckled and held out his hand._

_“Sure you did. Name’s Bucky Barnes.”_

_“Steve Rogers.”_

Wood splintered beneath his left arm as it spasmed in the aftermath of the download. That…that had been one of the more intense memories. Identify: Steve Rogers. Captain America. Previous target. The memory had been about when he met Steve Rogers. The nerves he felt were the same as they had been before that fight.

“Assessment: composure shaken. Right arm insecure. Left arm unrefined. Legs trembling.” He muttered this report to himself, a way of calming down. “Solution: three deep breaths, held to a count of fifteen each.” He breathed in. Hold to fifteen. Exhale. Inhale. Hold to fifteen. Exhale. Inhale. Hold to fifteen. Exhale. Left hand: open and close. Functional. Right hand: open and close, extend away from self and retract. Stable. Legs: retract and extend. Stable.

Recovered from the temporary mental shock, James nodded to himself and dropped from the tree. He strode confidently and quietly toward Stiles Stilinski’s front door. Only the blue jeep was in front, indicating the Stiles Stilinski was alone. As was necessary. He quickly sent Stiles Stilinski a text message reading:

**Incoming meeting. James Buchanan Barnes. Do not be alarmed.**

He pressed send, waited for exactly one minute, and then rang the doorbell.

After six seconds he heard Stiles Stilinski approach the door, but it remained closed. After fifteen seconds of silence with Stiles Stilinski behind the door, James decided to speak. “I mean you no harm, Stiles Stilinski. I approach now only because I cannot trust Scott McCall with this information.” Stiles Stilinski sighed and muttered to himself before unlocking and opening the door.

“What.” Identify: hostility. Mistrust. Fear.

Sub-imperative: establish positive environment. Appeal to kindness. Method: apologize.

“I…I am sorry, for bothering you. I apologize for contacting you when your father Sheriff Stilinski and Best Friend-bodyguard werewolf Scott McCall are absent. You do not trust me. I do not trust me. I trust you. I am here to trust you with my existence. May I enter?” Stiles Stilinski’s eyes were wide at the outpouring of words. He remained uncertain, but he cautiously stepped back and allowed James to enter. He turned back to face Stiles Stilinski once the door was shut and locked.

“May I search for hidden bugs? This must remain absolutely secret.” Stiles Stilinski nodded in confusion, but remained silent. James scoured the house for twenty-three minutes, looking high and low and behind every crevice for anything that could be a bug. Assessment: house secure. Perimeter secure as of twenty-three minutes ago. Sufficient. He turned back to Stiles Stilinski.

“Your father Sheriff Stilinski’s shift ends in twenty-two minutes; 82% chance he will be home within thirty. I must be gone by then. Confession: The Mission Override code I gave you was a test. It is a real code, but it is of little use. You have passed. Now I…I beg you to be my Primary Mission Assist.” Stiles Stilinski’s eyes widened at James’ words.

“Um…Yeah…What do I have to do, before I commit to anything?” James slowly sank to his knees in a position of deference to Stiles Stilinski, head bowed to show submission.

“I discovered Mission Control Assignment codes for my programming, as well as Primary Handler Facial Override designations. If…If you will allow it…” The words were difficult for The Asset to say. Identify: fear. Source: desire to remain out of control. Solution: trust Stiles Stilinski to be Primary Mission Assist, to prevent HYDRA regaining control. James nodded to himself.

“I wish for you to make this house Mission Control. If you consent, then even in the event of recalibration, I will return here after any mission. Unless my Mission Control is reassigned at the same time. Chances of that: very low. Reason: I made effort to destroy every note regarding Mission Control Reassignment.

“I also wish to give you Primary Handler Override. It is a dangerous code. It assigns you as my primary handler; Upon seeing your face, I will follow any orders you give me to the letter. Unless a new Primary Handler is designated, this will override any recalibration or other code. It…” The asset struggled to continue. He was literally trying to put his life into Stiles Stilinski’s hand. “It is absolute. Once you are assigned my Primary Handler, I cannot disobey any direct order you give me”

“Why…Why?” Stiles Stilinski nearly shouted. “Why on earth would you want _me_ to have that kind of control over you? That’s insane! It’s…I don’t get it!” James nodded and remained in his submissive position.

“You have satisfied the conditions for trust. You did not report my existence. I have observed you; you exhibit extreme loyalty to Scott McCall. You exhibit protectiveness for Lydia Martin, and father Sheriff Stilinski, and Melissa McCall. You risk your life for them. You…You are objectively good, and you are protected. And you are unknown to SHIELD and HYDRA.”

“But why would you give these codes to anyone? Why not let them be destroyed and disappear forever?” Identify: fear. Stiles Stilinski was afraid. James lifted his eyes to observe Stiles Stilinski and confirmed a position of distress.

“They are unknown. Previous Primary Handler: Arnim Zola. Deceased. The code has not been used since his death; its likelihood of survival beyond the records I found are less than 1%. Confidence: 90%.”

“So you are ninety percent confident that there is less than a 1% chance of the code still existing outside your head. That’s…That math…I don’t even… I need to sit down.” Stiles Stilinski turned and dropped into a chair at the table. James stood and found a pen and a sheet of paper, then walked and sat two chairs away from Stiles Stilinski. He began to write down the codes with no labels as to what they could be.

“Will you be my primary mission assist?” Stiles Stilinski looked up and held James’ eyes for several seconds while he thought. After seventeen seconds of staring, Stiles Stilinski sighed and nodded.

“Yeah, I will. I’m keeping enough secrets, this one more won’t hurt. In fact, this one may make up for all the others!”

“Please, do not tell Scott McCall these codes. Once activated, burn this paper. Forget the codes. They must disappear.” Stiles Stilinski nodded and reached out for the paper. “I require a belt.”

“A belt? Why?”

“Reconfiguration caused pain. Biting through my tongue is undesirable.” Stiles Stilinski blanched at that. He then shook his head and moved up the stairs, returning seventeen seconds later with a leather belt. James took the belt nodded. “Stand ten feet away from me. I will not approach you, but my limbs may leave my control. You will be safe if you maintain distance until after recalibration.” He then set the belt between his teeth and bit down. James nodded. Stiles Stilinski nodded and looked down to the paper.

“Welcome home, Soldier. Omicron,” James spasmed as a bolt of lightning coursed behind his eyes. Stiles Stilinski continued after only one second. He did not pause again. “Squirrel, boxcar, warning.” James fell still with his head hanging. “Welcome home, Soldier.” James head lifted and took in Stiles’ eyes. He took a deep breath and nodded. The belt dropped from his teeth to his lap.

“Mission Control reassigned. Current mission headquarters: Stiles Stilinski’s house, Beacon Hills, California. United States of America.” Stiles nodded.

“Ready for the next one?” James inhaled once, held it, then exhaled heavily before replacing the belt between his teeth and nodding. Stiles look down, read for a moment, then began.

“Briefcase, mother, homeland. Facial recognition, Primary handler. Observe.” James’ head lifted to capture Stiles Stilinski’s face while lightning coursed through his arms and body. “One, five, seven, twelve, sixteen, nineteen, twenty.” James’ eyes closed and he clenched his teeth as Stiles Stilinski finished the procedure. “Orange, pillow, warrior, ocean. Do you know me, soldier?” James muscles relaxed as he slowly lifted his head to take in Stiles Stilinski’s young face. The belt fell from his mouth.

“Primary Handler, Mscislaw Stilinski. What is your command?” Stiles Stilinski shuddered and stepped forward, suppressing tears.

“Stand, James Buchanan Barnes. At ease.” Stiles Stilinski hesitated when James stood and allowed his posture to fall into a casual one. “Mission report?”

“Mission report: November 2nd, 2014. Mission control. Mission imperative: Contact Stiles Stilinski. Divulge true purpose. Complete.” Stiles Stilinski nodded.

“Mission complete. Be yourself.” Command too general; default to self-control. James sagged back into a chair as a severe tiredness sank into his bones.

Mission briefing: accept download?

Accept.

_Loud crashes could be heard from where he lay bound to the table. Bucky hoped the place would come crashing down around him, killing Zola and everyone else that worked in this wretched place. He rolled his head weakly as Arnim Zola gathered his materials and fled the room. Footsteps approached quickly and he could hear someone behind him._

_“Bucky?”_

_What._

_No._

_“Oh my god.”_

_One of the straps was torn loose._

_“Who’s that?” he asked weakly, his eyes rolling around to take in his rescuer._

_“It’s me. It’s Steve.”_

_“Steve?” Impossible. But it was. Relief flooded through his drugged system as the familiar face came into focus. Steve!_

_“Come on, Buck.” The remaining straps were broken and Bucky was hoisted to his feet by a man he thought was supposed to be a lot smaller. “I thought you were dead.” Steve said as he clapped his hand on Bucky’s neck, a relieved smile on his face._

_“Thought you were smaller.” Steve chuckled lightly and Bucky smiled. Steve found him._

 James returned to himself to find Stiles Stilinski watching from ten feet away, as he had been instructed. Identify: relief. Relief was the feeling coursing through him, brought on by the knowledge that Stiles could undo any damage done to him from this point forward.

“Thank you, Stiles Stilinski.”

“It’s alright, James. And just call me Stiles. It’s okay.” James nodded. “You kinda sat there for a few minutes, so it might be a good idea to get going. My dad is bound to be home soon.” James nodded. Time: 1832. He needed to leave. He lifted himself to his feet and extended his right hand toward Stiles Stilinski. Stiles. Stiles took and shook it firmly, a small smile on his face.

The door closed gently behind him as he made his way to the copse of trees to retrieve his duffel bag.

Back at his room at Motel 8, James pulled out his phone and wrote a message to Stiles.

**Stiles. Thank you. I know about the supernatural disasters here. The Dread Doctors. Werewolves. If I can help you, text this number. If I am not dead, I will respond with my eta. I will change phones frequently. I will always text you with ‘JBB new.’ Be safe.**

James quickly packed the few belongings he had left out around the room, minus the knives stashed around it. Those would be packed in the morning. He undressed and lay gently on the bed closing his eyes.

Mission report: November 2nd, 2014. 1900 Motel 8, Beacon Hills, California. United States of America.

Operation Safety: complete.

Primary Mission Assist: Stiles Stilinski. Confirmed.

He decided to indulge himself for the first time in light of his first extremely successful, self-assigned mission.

Set sleep: 10 hours.

**Author's Note:**

> I refuse to post works that I have not finished, because I hate coming across great stories that have not been updated in forever. I refuse to inflict that anguish upon the people who may grow attached to my stories, so I only post things I have finished.  
> That said, this is technically a one-shot that I wrote as a prologue to a more complete story I am working on fully integrating the Teen Wolf and Marvel universes.
> 
> This was inspired by two works:  
> Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail series by Owlet  
> http://archiveofourown.org/series/195689
> 
> Winter Wolves series by Nyxelestia  
> http://archiveofourown.org/series/312872


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